Beginnings: The Boneyard

Note: This Game For Beginners is now full. I’ll open a new short game very similar to this one as soon as we’re well underway here and I know I can accommodate it on my roster.

“Well.”

The Head Librarian looked the gaggle of mercenaries up and down, a single eyebrow lifting in her scepticism. “You’re not quite what I’d hoped for, but I suppose it’s not really the right season for adventurers in these parts.”

She swept over to the large map table at the end of the long reading room, gesturing for them to follow. “The Great Library collects all manner of objects,” she said, “not merely books. We also deal in scrolls, artefacts, rare animal specimens - even weapons, should they prove of interest.”

She glanced up, pausing to increase the tension before continuing. “One of my Senior Researchers believes he has located one such object - an amulet that was until now thought to be lost forever along with its owner. He believes that said owner - a singularly disreputable character known to the history books only as ‘Lucky Ginger’ may in fact have died wearing it. Lucky Ginger was eaten by a dragon.”

The pregnant silence that followed dared any member of the group to make a joke about Lucky Ginger’s relative good fortune. For whatever reason, nobody did. The Head Librarian began to roll a large map out across the table.

“As it happens, this narrows down the amulet’s location considerably. Since this was a good few hundred years ago now, said dragon ought to be dead, and we have no records of that particular beast’s demise, meaning it probably died of natural causes.” One long finger began to trace a route across the map before them. “As most of you will know, any dragon not killed by a dragonslayer goes to a single location to die.”

Oh no. Oh no no no. No way.

“Of course, I’m aware there are a lot of silly superstitions surrounding Boneyard Pass - ill winds and strange sightings and mysterious ailments and whatnot. Children’s stories, you know. But if you’d rather leave now, I completely understand. I’m sure no one would think any less of you. Or tell anybody you were too scared to fetch a necklace from a graveyard.”